It Runs in the Family
by Sylvia1
Summary: For the first time probably since he was committed, Crane is getting a visitor at Arkham Asylum. He certainly didn't expect the visitor to be a family relation either. Featuring guest appearances by Joker, Two-Face, Poison Ivy, Bartholomew, & Leland.
1. A Short Session

Chapter 1: A Short Session

It was always amusing that whenever Crane had to be moved anywhere in Arkham, it was always with two very muscular escorts who each were at least twice his size. They would take one of two positions around him, which gave him clues as to where he was going. If they walked one ahead and one behind, that usually meant it was the showers, the recreation room, or the cafeteria. Generally locations that didn't require the same watchfulness as was needed for one-on-one meetings. If they were walking on either side of him, that meant he was off to converse with someone of importance, which usually meant one of the doctors. Though there were a few times when he'd been lucky enough to speak with Jeremiah Arkham himself. His old boss had grown increasingly distant since Crane's initial hospitalization.

Today was his normal 9 A.M. appointment with his primary physician, Dr. David Bartholomew. As the two beefy guards led him in, he saw that David was wearing a pink shirt today underneath his typical white coat. It was a bit odd, seeing as he only normally wore that particular shirt on Fridays. It must have been a special occasion for him to don such a cheerful color on such a dreary Monday.

"Good morning, Jonathan. How are you today?"

David's voice was just as obnoxiously cheery as his shirt. Crane situated himself in the creaky cushioned chair on the opposite side of his desk, rocking back and forth just so the noise would get under David's skin. "I'm great." He smirked, watching the sleet hit the window outside. "Actually I'm wonderful."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"I just had my copy of Scientific Mind delivered last night. Did you know that fear is something that can be quantitatively measured in even a young child? They were discussing the results of abandonment experiments - quite fascinating! Apparently prolonged exposure can lead to a paralytic response to fear later in life."

David cleared his throat, "Are you sure that is why you're so pleased? I would have thought it was due to the fork you jabbed into Mr. White's hand the other day."

Crane couldn't suppress the smile, "Yes, that was quite enjoyable, wasn't it? The scream though, it wasn't the same. Not like it was the other night? It didn't have the same pitch, the same level of anguish, the same… unadulterated terror."

Shuffling his paperwork, David stared at him from over his glasses. "Really Jonathan, are you sure that's why you stabbed him, and not out of a desire to impress Mr. White? He is new to Arkham after all."

Crane chuckled, "Impress him? Really, David, I believe that's you pushing your own beliefs onto your patient. Personally I could care less about impressing anyone, in fact, they should be attempting to impress us."

"Us? Who do you mean by that?"

"My fellow rogues of course. We rather run this place, and anyone who thinks that coming here is somehow a preferred sentence to jail is well… stupid. And anyone who works here would agree with me."

David gave a short smile, but otherwise refused to indicate any other agreement. That was all that Crane needed though, only professionalism would prevent him from truly saying whether or not he agreed. "Well aren't you going to ask me how I am, Jonathan?"

Crane sighed, leaning back in the chair. "You're going to tell me anyway. I don't really see a point in asking."

He forced another smile. "So far I'm having quite a promising day, but I'm afraid our chat this morning will have to be cut a bit shorter than normal."

"Oh, well isn't that a shame," Crane mocked. "Whatever will I do without your droning voice?"

David finally finished fiddling with his papers, having pushed them back neatly into the folder. He wrapped his fingers together as he stared at Crane across the rickety metallic table. "Jonathan, I believe you're already aware that not too long ago the Batman gave us information regarding your original identity."

He frowned. He'd been told that the information had been given out, but that was the last he'd heard of it. David's under-spoken excitement mixed with drudging up that knowledge was a harrying combination. And it would certainly explain the pink shirt. "Yes I was told."

"Well while it has been agreed upon that your official records won't be altered, at least as far as your name is concerned…"

Crane felt his eye twitch ever so slightly.

"… we thought it important that we try to connect you with your past." His smile wasn't forced any longer, and it felt more mockery than anything resembling empathy.

"Some things are best left alone, Bartholomew."

David stopped for a moment, taken back by the threatening tone in Crane's voice. Then he continued, perhaps with a tad more zeal this time. "Be that as it may, Jonathan, I'm sure you'll be happy to hear that your mother will be dropping in to visit today."

Crane felt his breathing begin to labor and could feel hear his heartbeat thrumming in his ears. His mother… he hadn't thought about her since he'd last tried to kill her, and that was quite a long time ago! Well this was what he got for his sloppiness, for failing to tie up a loose end. Now he would be forced to sit and listen to her chatter on about whatever it was that she did during the day to forget about her failures in life.

"Jonathan, are you alright?"

Crane realized he was clutching the arms of the chair, and it took a force of will to make his hands release the grip. He was trembling, and it was taking every fiber of his being to force himself to gain control. If he had an outburst here, now, David would mark it as some sort of change. Possibly even an improvement. He'd been listed as a sociopath since he first stepped into the asylum, and even though he knew deep down that the occasional outburst was certainly expected, he couldn't allow himself to do it. Especially not where his mother was concerned. Bartholomew in particular would see it as a crack in the armor, a way to get through to the underbelly. If Jeremiah himself ever discovered it, he would never hear the end of it.

David was on his feet now, next to him. When had he stood up? "You don't look well. Do I need to contact a nurse?"

Crane stamped his snarl into a smile the Joker would be proud of, then made his arm lose its rigidity as he waved off the concern. "No, not at all. I'm perfectly fine. I suppose I'm simply…" His eyes had glanced over to the photograph of his mother that had been paper-clipped to the outside of the folder. It was only black and white, but the happiness she exuded simply disgusted him. He pursed his lips as he stared at it.

"You're at a loss for words, I see. That's perfectly alright, and to be expected considering your difficult relationship." His pencil was scratching across his notepad so quickly, Crane hoped he was doodling rather than taking notes. "Would you like to see the picture?" he offered, reaching over to pluck the tiny photo to hand to him.

"No!" Crane growled, making David jump. "I mean… no, thank you." He closed his eyes for a moment, wishing he could rally in this vicious anger that burned in his chest. It was one thing to release it upon some nameless victim found drunk in the derelict streets of Gotham; it was quite another when it was let loose upon a doctor who could easily fill him with so many drugs he'd be near unconscious for a week.

A few more scribbles, and after a silence that seemed to stretch the very fibers of Crane's patience, Bartholomew finally spoke, "Well… if you're sure you're alright, then I suppose it's best for you to head back to your cell. She should be by in the next hour or two."

The guards entered and Crane stood to join them, his mind foggy with rage. He almost didn't register that Bartholomew addressed him as he stepped through the threshold.

"Oh, and Jonathan?"

He froze, nodding his head in the doctor's direction, but not turning to face him entirely.

"We'll be coming by your cell when we call on you. I think it's best if you have some… supervision when she's here."

Crane gave a short laugh, "You mean you don't trust me to be with her alone."

"No, that's hardly the case, Jonathan. My understanding is that the last time you saw your mother, you tried to kill her and her children. You obviously harbor deep feelings of resentment and pain towards her, so I believe it would be best for us to slowly allow the two of you to interact."

Crane smirked as the guards ushered him out the door, "Like I said: you're afraid of what I'll do to her."


	2. Talking About Parents

Chapter 2: Talking About Parents

Damn he was nervous! Logically it didn't make any sense. Crane could care less what his mother thought of his cell, of the books he read, of whether or not the bed was decently made - but for some reason he felt the urge to tidy everything up regardless. He stacked the mess of psychology magazines on top of his books, and straightened the few sheets he was allowed on his measly bed.

"You expecting company, Spooky?" Joker called from across the hall. He was sitting in nothing but boxers and a T-shirt playing solitaire on his bed. What a wonderful visage for his mother on her first steps into a mental institution. She'd probably think they all sat around in their underwear all day.

"Yes," he muttered. "Apparently my mother is coming by today…"

"Oooh! Joker got to his feet and cards went flying. "I didn't know you had a mother!"

"Don't be stupid," Ivy called out. "Of course he has a mother! Somehow though I don't think you two were very close, Crane." Her cell was directly beside his own. A rather convenient turn of events, putting two devious chemists within earshot of each other. He and Ivy actually got along rather well when she wasn't obsessing over plants, or patronizing his adoration of all things frightful.

He smiled, "What gives you that idea, Red?" He checked on the brick beneath his bed to make sure that all his stolen kitchen utensils and various hypodermic needles were carefully stowed and hidden.

"Well I mean you've never mentioned her."

"And how many of us talk about our parents anyway?" Joker laughed, "I mean, sure we're in a loony bin, but that doesn't mean we wax poetic about our family all the time. Of course there's always a few…"

"At least you have a mom, Crane," Harvey growled. His cell was beside Joker's and he looked quite sour with his chin in his hand, idly flipping his incessant coin.

"Yes, I suppose," Crane muttered. "Joker, would you mind at least pulling some clothes on?"

"You're ashamed to tell your mother about us, aren't you!" Joker cackled.

Crane sighed, "No, I'd just prefer that you didn't look crazier than you already are."

Ivy laughed, "You could always prance around naked, Joker. I'm sure some of the guards would absolutely _adore_ that."

The clown glared for a moment before going to retrieve his bright orange jumpsuit from underneath his bed. "On second thought, Spooky, I think I will don the garment of shame."

"It can't be a 'garment of shame' if we're all wearing one," Harvey added.

"Well I'd at least like it in a more flattering color. Orange is so boring!"

"So what's her name, Crane?" Ivy asked, and Crane could imagine how excitable she was on the other side of the cement wall that separated them.

"Does it matter? This is going to be embarrassing regardless!"

"Well that's what you get for giving away your top secret identity! You got to learn to be more careful, Spooky! Maybe you need lessons in subtly…" Joker smiled, zipping up the orange jumpsuit.

"From you? I don't think you're physically capable of such a thing."

"He's sneaky enough to get out of his cell and grab things from the guards' office," Harvey added with a smile. Joker looked slightly displeased with this observation.

"Really?" Ivy was all curiosity. "Joker, I apparently need to be watching you more closely!"

"And when did you figure this out, Harv?"

He shrugged, and Crane could just barely see a smug grin on Harvey's good side from his angle. "The other day you swapped out the stuff in the fridge with what was in the freezer. They thought one of the rookies was throwing a prank - I like how you divided them up so easily."

Joker gave out a cackle of laughter, his anger completely forgotten. "At least we're getting some entertainment in this deadbeat place, right?"

Crane sat down rigidly at his desk. It was completely cleaned off except for the pile of his reading materials. It had taken him four months of good behavior to earn the right to have it, and other than his books and magazines, it was his most prized possession in here. She wouldn't notice anything special about it though. To her it would be a rickety, lopsided desk with graffiti carved in on all sides, a dilapidated thing that would only be fit for a trash heap were they outside of the asylum. She wouldn't know all the time he spent smiling at dim-witted doctors, all the drugs he'd swallowed down willingly knowing full-well that the side effects would be worse than the cure, or all the boring daytime talk shows he'd been forced to watch in the recreation room. She would only see an ugly, unfinished desk that was too big for such a tiny cell, and too big for the scrawny man who sat at it.

He wasn't ready for this.


	3. A Damn Good Shot

Posting this a bit earlier than normal - I'm not sure if I'll be able to get to a computer tonight. Thanks for all the great comments as well! There needs to be more fiction out there with Crane and his messed up family, don't you think? ;)

Chapter 3: A Damn Good Shot

Despite his rush to get his cell in order before she arrived, it was over an hour before he heard Bartholomew's voice down the hall.

"…these inmates are kept under constant watch. Each of them has proven again and again that they are untrustworthy around society, and must be treated accordingly."

Crane recognized that speech. He'd given it plenty of times when giving "tours" of the high security section of the asylum. He wasn't sure if David was trying to frighten her or simply put her on edge, but he heartily approved. He stretched out on his bed and picked up a worn and beaten copy of The Haunting of Hill House and pretended to read. It wasn't quite as gruesome as Stephen King or grotesque as H.P. Lovecraft, but he had to work with what he had, and the doctors were careful to review his reading list. Bartholomew finally stopped at his cell, "Jonathan? She's here."

Crane glanced at the two of them over the top of his glasses. David was unloading the two folding chairs he'd brought. He was wearing his green tie this time, and he'd put on a nicer jacket than what he wore earlier. Too bad Crane was unable to dress up for the occasion. His mother was standing next to him in perhaps the most drab dress he had ever seen. It was a study in different shades of brown, and the hat that she wore made her eyes look huge, almost mouse-like. How disgusting that this simpering, boring creature had any sort of relation to him. She had lost some weight since last he'd seen her, and he wondered if she'd given up on having children for fear of creating more horrors like him. It was a cheerful thought at least.

She smiled and waved at him, "Hi Johnny."

He closed his eyes for a minute and sighed. She would have to use that most despicable nickname, wouldn't she? She had no way inkling of how it made every nerve in his body shudder at the same time. When Granny used to call him that, he wanted to pull her tongue out with a pair of forceps, but how could she know that? She had abandoned him as soon as the umbilical cord had been cut. He slammed the book closed, and pulled his own desk chair over to sit with them.

"David, I hope you have some idea what we'll be talking about. Otherwise this will be quite a boring session."

"Now Jonathan, I hope you'll show a tad bit of patience with us. This is new for us as well, isn't it, Karen?"

Karen gave a smile that looked more plastic than person, and glanced nervously at her son. "Which do you go by now, is it Johnny or Jonathan?"

Crane glared at her. He felt he was doing a fine effort here, but his mother was either very dense, or simply quite stupid, because she was missing all his subtle cues to shut up. "It's Jonathan." He smirked, "Johnny is my stripper name."

She grew a shade paler and stared at him wide-eyed before looking down to her shoes again. God, this woman was easy!

David had only been here a few moments and already he was losing the conversation. Not a very good start for an experimental type of treatment, and he seemed to realize that. Crane after all had once been head of Arkham Asylum, and quite a damn good psychiatrist as well. If he'd been foolish enough to try this, he would have definitely held tight to the reigns throughout the entire session. The fact that David was already losing control was a testament to how rusty he was in these prickly situations. He'd grown too accustomed to his individual sessions and placated, drugged patients.

"Now let's try to stay on track here. No one is denying that you have some animosity for your mother, Jonathan. However, please remember that she volunteered to come by and see you, and that she has your best interests in mind. We would all appreciate it if you would reel in that temper of yours."

Crane nodded, folding his arms and sitting back in his chair. "My temper is very nicely in check, thank you, David. The question at hand is why my dear, beloved mother would waste an entire day in coming here. What sort of guilt wracks her body? What horrors does she imagine I do when she's alone in her bed, because Karen, we all know you're no longer married. I think that's what, your third husband you've had? I believe we can all agree that you have some commitment issues here."

Karen's eyes were welling up with tears, and she clutched at the short dusty brown jacket that fit over her thin shoulders.

"Now Jonathan, I don't think this is appropriate for you to-"

"I suppose the more accurate term for it would be her determination to find solely abusive husbands. Each one has left her in a progressively worse state, am I right, Mom?"

Karen shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "That's not fair!"

Crane smirked, "Of course I'm not fair. I learned from a very young age that life wasn't fair, and it's about time that you learned it as well, don't you think, Karen? Tell me, how many children does that round up for you, hm? Let's see, there's me, my sister you had with your first husband, she's dealing with abusive problems as well, isn't she? Gets into fights with other kids at school supposedly, right? Such a shame! The twins you had with the second husband too. Oh he was a real beauty. Put you in the hospital two times I think, one for fracturing your left arm and another for cranial bruising. After only a couple of years you finally decided to divorce that one. Last but certainly not least, there was your latest son - no, wait. That's the one you lost when you fell down those stairs, isn't it? Goodness you're clumsy!"

Karen was a sobbing mess, and although David was trying to pull her to her feet, she wouldn't budge. "No, no, it's all true! I've always known it was true! Everything I ever touch is ruined!"

Crane sighed, shaking his head. He walked up to the glass and crouched down low. Her face was bright red, and her brown hair hung down over her face. "You really are a pathetic creature, Karen. To be quite honest, I'm horrified that somehow I came from your womb."

From across the hall, Crane could vaguely hear the cackling laughter of Joker and the lack of Harvey's flipping coin.

"You're a monster!" She growled, reaching for a tissue out of her coat pocket.

Crane laughed, "Yes, I've heard that before! Monster, demon, I admit I was expecting something a bit more creative-"

He saw the flash of metal too late.

"-from you."

The shot blasted through the plexiglass with such a force that shards were thrown everywhere. Crane felt an explosion of pain in his left shoulder that shoved him backwards, hitting the frame of the bed with the small of his back. He slid down to the floor, a hand clutching at his wound as he felt hot blood ooze out.

Karen was smiling at him, holding the gun out triumphantly. David looked just as shocked as Crane felt, and two guards appeared from nowhere to wrestle the gun out of her hands. She was so unassuming, so very bland! Crane had to admit that he never had suspected it. As darkness fell over him and the blood gushed out of his shoulder, he realized only his mother would have the guts and the madness to take on such a direct approach. He smiled, nodding in the direction she had been a few moments ago, though now all he could see was a darkening blur. "That was a damn good shot, mother."


	4. Leland

Decided to go ahead and post the final two chapters since they're pretty short. Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Leland

When Crane next awoke, he was no longer in his cell. He heard the beeping of the heart monitor long before he came fully to consciousness. He tentatively cracked his eyes open and saw a dark woman leaning over him. She looked incredibly familiar for some reason. He had to stare at her face for a good minute before realization finally dawned on him.

"Leland?" His tongue felt thick and unresponsive in his mouth.

"Jonathan! I'm glad you're awake. How are you feeling?"

Oh yes, Joan Leland. She had been a friend of his before he had gassed the Narrows, and based on the jovial expression on her face, she still considered herself as such.

"Like I've been shot."

She smiled, taking a moment to move a bit of hair out of his face. Joan had always been an admirer, and in more ways than just his intellect. Crane was pretty sure it mentioned in his file that he was homosexual, but for some reason Joan still believed she had a chance with him. Unfortunately now that he was an inmate here, she took every opportunity to be around him. It was no wonder really that he was always so short-tempered.

"The doctors say you should be alright, but the bullet fractured several ribs and pierced your lung as well. If you hadn't been at a hospital, you might not be alive."

"Oh don't give me that, this isn't a hospital," he tried to push himself up into a sitting position, but the pain flared up like an angry serpent, forcing him to fall back to the bed.

"Take it easy, Jonathan. You've been shot near the heart. You're very lucky you know."

Crane frowned. What a horrific way that would have been to die: shot through the heart in his own cell in front of a horde of fellow rogues. By his own mother no less. "I'm never going to live this down," he whispered to himself, forgetting momentarily that Leland was still in the room. She had gone to sit in the corner chair, and had quickly pulled out a pile of papers to sort through.

"Oh, sure you will. How many mothers do you think would want to kill their own kid? She's definitely a crazy, that one." It was amusing when Joan was alone with him like this. She would never speak so callously in front of the other doctors or inmates, but that wry, vicious humor was one of the few things they had in common. Even when Crane had been Director of Arkham, it was a guilty pleasure they both had enjoyed.

"I wonder if she'll be transferred to Arkham," Crane grinned. "Oh that would make my day!"

"I don't know, I'm sure there's some law about being housed in the same building as someone who tried to kill you."

"That is if I press charges."

Joan's eyes went wide as she stared at him over her glasses. "You're not? Why? Otherwise she'll just try to-"

"Oh trust me, Leland, she won't get another chance."

Joan sighed, pushing her papers onto a side table. "It's talking like that that's going to have you cooped up here forever, Jonathan. Don't you think you should, I don't know, try to get well while you're in here?"

Crane smirked, "And lose out on all these perks?" He motioned to the heart monitor and wires he was hooked up to. "Wouldn't dream of it!"

The nurse came in and mentioned some rubbish about how the patient needed to get some rest. Even though Crane objected to it - he was a medical doctor after all - Leland made no move to interfere, and the nurse gave him the sedative regardless.


	5. Cabin Fever

Chapter 5: Cabin Fever

Weeks passed and Crane slowly was allowed access again to the main sections of the asylum: his room and the recreation room in particular. The cafeteria and showers were still off limits for fear that his injury could be aggravated, which was perfectly fine by Crane. He preferred eating and bathing in isolation anyway. The freezing winter weather was beginning to pass and now the sunny outdoors taunted him. The snow was beginning to thaw and soon there might just be a bit of grass outside instead of a mass of ice. Although it looked like it was getting warmer outside, he knew it would still be damn freezing. The cold weather always made Crane miss living in the South. At least there you wouldn't be confined to being indoors for an entire season.

It was one thing to be inside working and studying out of choice all day, but quite another when it was due to recovery. Everything felt bland and boring, and the sameness of the halls, the doors, the rooms, and even the people was beginning to get to him. He was pretty sure this was what Joker would refer to as "cabin fever".

He had been allowed access to the recreation room one morning, and was surprised to see the place for once wasn't deserted. Joker was watching some old black-and-white comedy film while Ivy was reading through an herbology book.

"I don't understand why you can have books like that, but I'm not allowed a simple horror novel that wasn't written over half a century ago."

Ivy smiled as she glanced up, "Good to see you're up and about again."

Joker meandered over as Crane cautiously lowered himself into a chair. "You know, Spooky, when she shot you like that, I half expected straw to pop out."

Crane gave him a weary smile, "Did you? Well I'm sorry to disappoint you then."

"And here I thought all this time that glass was bullet-proof," Ivy added.

"No, no, no." Joker quipped. "All you had to do was ask, Red, and I would've told ya. Y'see all it takes is the right caliber and the right range. Though if she'd been off on either of those, she could've blown herself to bits instead of you. Your mom is smarter than she looks, Spooky."

"Yes, apparently she is."

"You gonna kill her?"

Crane tried to shrug, but the pain made him wince instead. "I've considered it. Part of me thinks she was surprisingly clever, the other part thinks she's a raving lunatic. Nothing like our caliber though, if you get my drift."

Joker leaned back in his chair. "I wish my mom would come and shoot me. At least this place wouldn't be so damn boring all the time."

"Trust me, it isn't all it's cracked up to be."

Ivy closed her book. Crane then recognized it as one he'd seen her reading before. Several times before in fact. It was probably the only herbology book she was allowed to have. "Well when you've decided Crane, you should pick a good day to do it."

"Oh? What did you have in mind?"

Ivy and Joker smiled at each other.

"Y'know Spooky, Mother's day is coming up soon."

Crane nodded. It would be a perfect way to exact revenge upon his lunatic mother, and of course his real friends had offered the idea. Leland would never have understood such a dramatic step, she was too simple minded to truly understand. But Joker and Ivy were his people, his _friends_; his fellow rogues who knew exactly where he was coming from, and who knew precisely what to say to cheer him up. It would be the first and only Mother's Day present he'd ever give her.


End file.
